


we've been lonely (too long)

by thecrackshiplollipop



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:18:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4997518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrackshiplollipop/pseuds/thecrackshiplollipop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one sentence prompt from an anon: "Raven x Abby. "Are you flirting with me?"</p><p>Raven and Abby's relationship may be codependent, but it's the only way they figured out how to survive after Mount Weather. But then one day they realise they're not just surviving any more, they're <em>living</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we've been lonely (too long)

Everyone just sort of accepts that Raven and Abby operate as a unit, an unspoken understanding throughout the whole camp that they’ve needed each other long before the Ark crashed onto Earth, and even more so now that they’ve been through so much trauma. Even after Clarke returns, even after burnt bridges are rebuilt, the sight of Raven heading towards Medical - her limp more exaggerated since Mount Weather - is familiar and routine enough to set a clock by. They take their meals together, and it’s not uncommon to find Abby in Raven’s workshop, watching Raven take apart something and build something entirely new.

Raven and Abby are only dimly aware of the codependent nature of their relationship. Through the winter it makes sense that they spend so much time together, their bones aching as the cold creeps in through the walls of the Ark; so few understand the pain they’re in, even fewer know how to help.

Abby clings to Raven in the hollow absence of her daughter, missing Clarke but thankful for the solid presence Raven provides. They’ve both been through hell but somehow Raven climbed out stronger than Abby and she doesn’t mind being there on the nights when Abby can’t sleep. They press together in one of the only old Earth-view windows that’s still accessible, sharing a blanket, their body heat, and a tin cup of moonshine.

That still doesn’t mean that Raven is always okay, that she’s always the strong one. Sometimes she shuts down completely, numb and hollow and lost, and the only person who can cut through it is Abby. She’s like a flashlight in the dark, leading Raven closer and closer, back to herself. Every time Abby helps her out of the hole, she feels a little chunk of weight lift from around her heart and she breathes a little easier, holds her head a little higher.

They build a connection that becomes safe and familiar, the closest thing either of them has to being loved, to having a family. It’s stupid to do away with it just because the aching cold eventually thaws into verdant spring, just because Clarke eventually finds her way back to camp.

(She’s different and darker, but she’s home. Abby holes up in Raven’s workshop the whole day because Clarke won’t even look at her. Raven doesn’t say anything, she just lets Abby sit next to her and explains how she’s rewiring a comm system from Mount Weather. The normalcy staves off the heartbreak for a day and Abby’s hug before she leaves the workshop communicates more than words ever could.)

With Clarke back things are more awkward, however. Raven feels like she’s strung somewhere between anger and relief, both ends of the spectrum tinged with bitterness. There are a thousand things she could yell at Clarke but none of it would come close to _thank you for saving us_ and _how could you leave your mother like that?_ so she doesn’t say anything at all.

Everyone orbits around Clarke like they’re scared of the hollowness in her eyes, like the way they avoided Abby and Raven because of the changes etched in them by the Mountain Men. Raven understands that dark twisty place that Clarke is still living in, so she gives her time and space. But Abby doesn’t, and Raven finds herself constantly trying to keep the other woman from blowing up the tentative calm that’s settled in the wake of Clarke’s return.

Raven tries to go about things like normal, she goes to breakfast and sits next to Abby at a table outside, their thighs touching just lightly. They never speak during breakfast, Raven’s not a morning person and Abby’s pain is always worse after sleep. They go to work, separating halfway to the Ark, exchanging looks that say ‘see you soon’. They take to eating lunch under a tree near the exterior door to Raven’s shop, the first rounds of fresh food more delicious than anything they’d recovered from Mount Weather. The air is warming steadily and the company is good and both women find it easy to laugh and enjoy the peace, memories of darkness skirted out of place by light. Abby always walks Raven back to her shop, a touch of Raven’s wrist, or elbow, or shoulder her way of saying goodbye. It keeps her strong through the day until she can see Abby again, at dinner.

This night is like every night, Raven takes off from the shop, walking fast so she can get to the mess first and claim the best trays of rations. (The people who work in the mess stopped caring that Raven was getting two trays ages ago - they understand.) She’s looking forward to the first fruit harvest from the gardens, remembering how Abby had loved the strawberries they’d recovered from Mount Weather. But just as she steps inside the mess she spies Clarke sitting at a table with Bellamy, Monty, and Octavia. Clarke’s back is to the door so she doesn’t see as Raven backtracks into the hallway, nearly running over one of the guards.

“Watch it, Reyes,” the guard says, his tone light and nonthreatening. She smiles her apology and he walks into the mess, waving at someone before he disappears from Raven’s line of sight.  That’s where Abby finds her a few minutes later, loitering in the hallway just outside of the mess, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“What’re you doing out here?” She smiles, touching Raven’s elbow lightly before stepping back so they have a few feet between them.

“Clarke’s in there,” Raven says with a breath. “I didn’t… We haven’t talked much since she got back and it’s…”

“Awkward,” Abby nods, looking down at her shoes. “She doesn’t want to talk to me. Hasn’t… at all, really, since she got back. It’s…” Abby’s smile looks more like a grimace. “Well. I wouldn’t want-”

“I know,” Raven nods, reaching out and brushing her fingertips against Abby’s arm. The touch is quick and light, but it says enough. Abby relaxes a little and Raven clears her throat, letting her hand drop back to her side. “Can I grab you something, at least? You need to eat.”

“Or…” Abby inhales deeply, a light going on in her eyes. She bites her bottom lip, rocking lightly from one foot to the other. It’s a habit she picked up after her leg had healed a little, a way of easing the pain when she had to think. “We could…” she licks her lips and steps into Raven’s space, deliberately standing closer than necessary, “maybe have dinner in my quarters tonight?”

“Hm,” Raven purses her lips, thinking about Monty’s newest batch of moonshine he planned on unveiling at dinner - something infused with the first sweet berries of the spring. “Monty’s got that moonshine thing, though. I was kinda looking forward-”

“He gave me some already,” Abby says, a little too quickly. “We can have some with dinner. I also managed to get ahold of a roast quail.”

“I-” Raven pauses and then looks at Abby, really looks at her, the way her eyes glint a little, not like she’s afraid of having to eat an awkward dinner with her daughter, but something else entirely. “Wait, are you… asking me on a date?” Raven says after she finally processes what that glint means.

“Ah,” Abby bites her bottom lip, “trying to?”

“Oh,” Raven laughs, covering her mouth with immediate regret.

“Well,” Abby straightens up, pulling her shoulders back, “I didn’t think I was that rusty.”

“No, it’s not that,” Raven giggles - like, actually giggles - and waves her hands helplessly. “I didn’t think you felt... Ah, man,” Raven rubs her face with her palms and exhales slowly, flushing out the last traces of hysterics. Abby looks positively stricken, her expression drawn and her cheeks flushed red.

“Forget about it,” Abby says tersely. “More alcohol and quail for me.”

“Wait. Abby, did you have this planned already?”

“Ugh,” Abby groans. “I did. I- sort of? I don’t know, Lincoln offered me the quail and… I’ve been thinking it’d be nice to have dinner - with you - without sharing a table. Like we do at lunch.”

“Lunch is pretty awesome,” Raven nods, still smiling despite the way Abby is frowning at her. “I’ll grab some sides from in there and then you lead the way. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Abby smiles, a little tightly, and Raven sees her lean against the wall as she heads into the mess.

The supervisors in the mess nod at Raven as she moves down the line, picking out some boiled potatoes, ruby red strawberries from the ever expanding garden, and some misshapen things meant to be bread rolls (they’re still working on perfecting the recipe). No one says anything as she takes the tray and some dishes out of the mess. If the little group around Clarke see her, they don’t call out to her, and Raven is overwhelmingly thankful for that.

Abby is quiet as she leads the way to her room. It’s in a newly cleaned out part of the ship, more secure than her previous slapped together quarters. Raven keeps glancing over at her as they walk, but she stares defiantly ahead. Her cheeks are still pink and she’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and Raven thinks she might actually be a little nervous.

“Well, now I finally get to see your new quarters.” Raven says brightly as they reach the sliding door that leads to Abby’s quarters.

“Oh please,” Abby rolls her eyes, undoing the lock with the key around her neck before pulling it open. Raven walks past, a bounce in her step that not even her limp can get rid of. “It’s the same stuff, just a bigger room.”

“With a war table now,” Raven whistles, placing the tray on the old Ark council’s table that serves as Abby’s desk. She looks around Abby’s sprawling quarters, her bed tucked up underneath a window that overlooks the newly planted vegetable garden. There are books from Mount Weather in stacks all over the place along with maps and diagrams and other hazards that Jackson would probably scold her about. But Raven just smiles, the disorder making the room feel more like a home. “Looks cozy.”

“Maybe if I were in it more I’d have an opinion,” Abby mutters, walking across the room to a little tin box on a shelf and producing the roast quail from inside. It occurs to Raven, watching Abby move around her space, that she’s been in Abby’s quarters plenty of times, for plenty of reasons, but this time is different. It’s a date. She shifts, suddenly unsure if anything has changed, if anything is supposed to change. She watches Abby carry the little pan with the quail in it over and set it down on the table. “There are some cookbooks in those piles that I’m dying to read but I just haven’t gotten the time.”

“I didn’t know you cooked,” Raven quips, trying to mask the way her stomach gives a hungry rumble in response to the smell of the quail.

“I don’t,” Abby shrugs, “but this is Earth. Everything’s new.”

“That’s for sure,” Raven mumbles, sneaking a small piece of quail into her mouth while Abby’s busy rooting around in a cabinet.

“Ah, here.” She produces a bottle of deep red liquid and shakes it a little. Raven makes a face and Abby lets out a little huff of a laugh. “It’s strawberry infused. Monty said it’s sweet.”

“Sweet, huh? I’m starting to feel spoiled,” Raven smirks, setting out the plates and cups.

“Don’t get used to it,” Abby says with mock-seriousness. “I had to trade a whole box of chocolate bars for the quail.”

“I thought Lincoln gave you the quail,” Raven says, brows quirked.

“In exchange for the chocolate,” Abby shrugs and puts the bottle of moonshine down on the table.

“Not that I don't appreciate the quail, Abby, but I think we could have a lot more fun with the chocolate,” Raven says, thinking about how well the strawberries and the chocolate would pair with Monty’s first stab at flavoured booze.

“Raven… are you flirting with me?” Abby looks like she’s holding back a laugh, her eyes sparkling with mirth. Raven’s cheeks flood with heat and she does her best attempt at keeping a surprised look off of her face. She shrugs, instead, and holds out the bowl of strawberries for Abby to take.

“Only if it’s working,” she grins and Abby laughs, bright and warm and real, their fingers brushing as she takes the bowl from Raven. There’s not a trace of worry or hurt on Abby’s face and Raven feels a little more of the heaviness lift from her heart.

It may be just a simple meal of quail and potatoes and strawberries, but it’s the best thing Raven’s ever eaten, because Abby smiles and laughs through the whole dinner. The moonshine is sweet and halfway through the bottle Raven’s entire body is like a lit match, hot and burning bright. Once midnight rolls around, Abby walks Raven into the hallway and they stand in the quiet, so close Raven can feel the heat from Abby’s body and smell the strawberry on her breath. This time she doesn’t just touch Raven’s hand to say goodbye, she leans in and kisses her. It's just a light press of her mouth to Raven’s, but it fans the flame into a roaring fire, every nerve ending in Raven’s body igniting under a kiss that could easily be described as chaste.

“Thank you,” Abby says, almost in a whisper, her mouth still so close.

“For what?” Raven tilts her head.

“For being you,” Abby smiles, and Raven rolls her eyes.

“Oh please,” she leans in and kisses her, this time with more pressure, more intent, her hand slipping up into Abby’s hair and holding her there. She only holds the kiss for a moment, though, Abby’s hand is on Raven’s shoulder and Raven knows that she could easily push Abby too far, too fast. She lets Abby’s hair slip through her fingers before she pulls back, licking her lips and hating the distance already. “I’ll see you at breakfast?” She asks, with forced calm.

“Oh,” Abby ghosts her fingertips over her lips, looking flushed even in the low yellow emergency lighting of the hallway. “Of course.”

“Great,” Raven nods, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she takes another step away. “Night, Abby.”

“Night,” Abby says, her smile small but genuine. Raven turns before she can do anything else crazy and heads back in the direction of her quarters. Raven’s mouth tastes like strawberries and every inch of her skin crackles with warmth from the moonshine and from Abby’s kiss. She decides to let herself just be happy for once, putting the other stuff to the side until tomorrow. For now, the memory of Abby’s mouth against hers, of her eyes bright with laughter in the low light of her room, makes her feel more alive than she’s felt since she crash landed on Earth.

 

 


End file.
